


do it again

by darkcity



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: Crying (the sexy kind), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Under-negotiated Kink, nothing heavy here just dumb boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:13:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkcity/pseuds/darkcity
Summary: Chuck and Orange fool around, fuck up, and (kinda) figure (some) things out.
Relationships: Orange Cassidy/Chuck Taylor
Comments: 14
Kudos: 88





	do it again

**Author's Note:**

> big creds to [or-ng-c-ss-dy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/o_r_ng_c_ss_dy/pseuds/or-ng-c-ss-dy) for Ideas
> 
> i used the word 'fuck' 35 times in this fic. enjoy

It’s when they’re in a town like this, where the bars range from dives to slightly nicer dives — which are fine for getting drunk in, great actually, but not so much for meeting someone he’d want to go home with — that Chuck is reminded why he’s so grateful to have a friend like Orange. Not only does he always have his back in the ring, he’s also nice enough to let Chuck put his dick inside him on a regular basis. 

A friend like that is indispensable, and Chuck reminds himself to pick up the tab next time they’re out drinking, because Orange really deserves it.

It always ends up like this, with Orange on his front, and Chuck was surprised the first time, that he would be into that. It seems a little dirty, almost degrading. But he guesses it would be weirder if Orange were on his back, with them staring at each other’s faces the whole time. Then he’d have to watch Orange’s cheeks flush to that ridiculous shade of red and his clear blue eyes get all glassy while he pants out Chuck’s name between moans.

Yeah, that would be weird as fuck.

This is definitely better, and he probably lasts longer this way, as long as he doesn’t look down at his dick sliding into Orange’s ass too much, which would drive anyone crazy. He gives in sometimes, like when Orange has his head all the way down on the pillow with his hips held up by Chuck's hands, like now. He has to take a minute to appreciate the sight — it would be fucked up _not_ to — and Orange just looks so goddamn obscene, Chuck’s head goes a little light. 

He swears under his breath, and can’t stop himself from driving into his friend faster, rougher. Orange keeps moaning louder, so Chuck just keeps going harder and bending closer until he’s pressing him down into the mattress and can feel the whole length of his back writhing under him. 

They’ve done this a good amount of times, but he’s getting some interesting new sounds out of Orange tonight for whatever reason. Even muffled, with his face buried in a pillow, he’s noisier than usual and it’s really doing it for Chuck, who bites back his own groans just so he can hear Orange more clearly. 

Then Orange starts wriggling his shoulders around awkwardly, and it takes a minute for Chuck to figure out that he’s trying to turn his head away from the mattress, which is probably really hard with Chuck bearing down on him so desperately and his hand wrapped around the curve where Orange’s neck and shoulder meet. 

“Shit, sorry,” he mutters, relaxing his grip and raising his head up so Orange can turn his head to the side. This is way better anyway, because now Chuck can really hear all his little whines, and he expects to get some good ones when he nips on Orange’s ear just the way he likes. But he just gets a strained wheezing noise instead, and Orange’s eyes open and dart around, and Chuck realizes he wants to say something. He stays pressed up against him but slows his movements, giving Orange the chance to catch his breath and hopefully moan Chuck’s name or something equally sexy.

“Yeah?” he encourages.

“Huh, _ah_ ,” is all Orange can manage, and Chuck knows he’s giving it good when he can’t even get a word out. He lets a satisfied smirk slide onto his face while his teeth trace along Orange’s ear.

“What’s that, baby?” 

“It, ah,” Orange breathes, “... hurts.”

 _Hell yeah it— wait what the fuck_.

His boner’s gone in record time, and Chuck pulls out and away so fast, he doesn’t think he’s ever moved so quickly in his life, even the first time Orange came onto him, when he ripped his clothes off in like 2 seconds flat. (Things were so much simpler back then, before he crushed his small friend during sex and basically practically killed him and became the worst person alive. He really needs to get out of here.) 

He flings himself off of Orange like the dude is on fire and says sorry about 50 times before really looking at him. He's turned onto his side now, panting and blinking up at him, through fucking _tears_ , and Chuck is seriously going to gouge his own eyes out for doing this.

“Ah, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” he mindlessly babbles. He scrambles around for his clothes, trying to run away and pull his pants on at the same time, which doesn’t work great. Orange just kinda lies there staring at him while he flounders around. Chuck’s halfway to the door, looking like an idiot while he wrestles with his shirt, by the time Orange finally lifts himself up on his elbows.

“C’mon, man. It’s okay,” Orange says calmly. Chuck’s gaze flicks over to his face instinctively, but he catches the sight of Orange casually wiping a hand across his cheek, and he can’t look away fast enough. 

“Nah, I, uhh…” Chuck tries to come up with literally anything to say, ideally something cool and chill that might balance out the fact that he’s clearly about to run away like a coward. But all that comes out is some messy gibberish that sounds like his brain couldn’t decide between ‘sorry’ and ‘bye.’

\-- 

Chuck’s never thought too hard about how much bigger he is than Orange, beyond how unfair it was that Orange could steal his shirts and hoodies whenever he wanted but Chuck couldn't return the favor. But now he's thinking about it a lot. Now he feels like the goddamn Hulk, like he’s gonna hospitalize the guy if he high-fives him too hard. And maybe that’s unfair to Orange; he’s a strong guy and he can take care of himself, after all. But evidently Chuck is a big dumb idiot who just crushes people without even realizing it, so it sort of cancels that out. And he really wishes the image of Orange's watery eyes would get the hell out of his brain. 

So after the whole... ordeal, he’s a lot more careful about his movements when Orange is near him, holding back every time he gets the urge to lean on his shoulder, or shove him playfully, or indulge in any other type of manhandling. It turns out he gets that urge pretty much constantly, and he's not sure how to feel about that, the fact that he's been going through life mindlessly grabbing at Orange every chance he gets, and that Orange has never stopped him.

He’s probably going overboard, with the way he flinches every time the guy even comes near him, and the way he practically screamed an apology when he accidentally bumped into him. It’s almost definitely annoying the hell out of Orange, but Chuck knows him well enough to know he’ll never actually confront him about it. He’ll just let Chuck act strange for a while, ‘til he’s stewed in his shame long enough to get over it. It's a perfect system that they have.

So it’s really messed up that, when he’s in his hotel room alone, debating whether he should jerk off(depending on whether he can trust himself not to think of a certain blonde), there’s a knock at his door and it’s... fucking Orange. Which Chuck doesn’t know until he opens it, of course, at which point he makes a jumpy noise he’s not proud of and leaps back so quickly he bangs his head on a sconce.

“Uhh…” he starts, his hand rubbing at the sore spot on his head. “‘Sup, man?”

“Dude, stop,” Orange tells him immediately. There’s the slightest edge of pissiness in his voice, which basically means he’s fucking livid. “You’re making this weird.” And he doesn’t need to elaborate any more than that for Chuck to know what he’s talking about. 

“What? Nothing’s weird. What?” he tries, testing how far playing dumb will get him. It usually works, probably because he is actually pretty dumb. But Orange doesn’t give him anything this time, just standing there silently, and Chuck cracks pretty damn fast. “Okay, but I’m not making it weird! It _is_ weird! It’s weird as shit!”

“It’s not a big deal. We can still bang,” Orange replies. “Just try not to suffocate me again,” he adds with a tiny quirk to his lips. Chuck groans instantly, muttering _so fucking weird_ to himself. “Chill out, man. You messed up one time. It’s cool.”

He makes it all sound so simple, and Chuck kinda hates him for it. He's already decided how he feels about this whole thing: fucked up. And now Orange has to come in, being all reasonable and calm, and making him realize that he's literally just cockblocking himself for no reason. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he sighs. Because Orange is right, and now Chuck feels kind of stupid for caring so much. “I mean, I’ve never done that before, right?” he asks, light-hearted. Orange opens his mouth but hesitates, and _oh no_. “Have I?” Of course he doesn’t say anything, but Chuck knows exactly what that means, and dives right back into freaking the hell out. “What the fuck! I’ve been hurting you this whole time? And you never— what the fuck, I’m so fucking—”

“I _like_ it,” Orange cuts him off, stepping closer and lazily slapping a hand onto Chuck’s shoulder to get his attention. He’s uncharacteristically loud and Chuck forces himself to shut up real quick. There’s still a lot he wants to say, and ask, right fucking now, but he can tell when Orange wants him to listen. “That was too much, last time. But usually it’s fine.”

“You _like_ it?” Orange shrugs. He moves closer ‘til he’s almost pressed against Chuck, which is distracting, especially when he starts trailing the hand on Chuck’s shoulder down over his chest. The admission rolls around in Chuck’s head, and his opinion on it starts shifting from Fucking Weird to… something else. Something that, combined with Orange’s hand teasing at his waistband, puts a little heat in his stomach and has a smirk pulling at his lips. “Yeah? You want big, bad Chuckie T to throw you around?” Orange huffs and dips his head in a slight almost-nod. “Heh, that’s kinda g—” but he bites his tongue when he sees Orange’s glare. Well, he thinks he’s glaring, really all he has to go off of is the twitch in his jaw. But either way, he probably shouldn’t be using ‘gay’ as an insult to the dude he’s fucking. “Uhh, cool.” 

“Let’s go, asshole,” Orange mumbles, and just walks right past him into the room, like that’s his big seduction move. Chuck hates that it works.

He told himself he wouldn’t be so quick to bang Orange again. And he likes to think he has a strong resolve, if nothing else, and there really is probably nothing else. But apparently his dick isn’t quite so strong. Apparently his dick is a fucking idiot, actually, and it has a line straight to his very intelligent, very respectable brain and there’s simply nothing he can do about how easy he is.

\--

Normally Chuck's the one frantically yanking both their clothes off. He can last about 10 seconds alone with Orange and a boner before he needs his dick out and being touched, preferably by Orange’s hands or mouth. Sure, sometimes Orange will try to undress them himself, but he’s so languid about it Chuck will just bat him away instantly and take care of it himself.

But this time, Chuck’s… not _nervous_ because that’s lame, but… _cautious_. Yeah. He’s cautious, so he’s not about to rip Orange’s shirt off like usual, because maybe he’ll tug too hard and dislocate the guy’s shoulder or something. (And then he could never jerk Chuck off again. The whole world would fall out of balance.)

So he leaves it up to Orange, who of course strips them so damn slow Chuck almost loses his mind. But he exercises some patience and lets Orange get them naked, walk them to the bed, break out the lube and get himself ready. Hell, he’d let him get on top, too — it would be pretty hot to watch Orange ride him, actually — but obviously he's way too lazy for that, and just pulls Chuck down over him.

He goes along, but holds himself up with his arms, trying not to touch Orange any more than he absolutely has to. Which basically puts him in a position of trying to fuck him without using his hands for leverage, so he ends up shimmying his hips in an incredibly embarrassing way that accomplishes very little. Orange watches him fumble for a minute, unimpressed, before finally rolling his eyes and grabbing one of his hands to slap it over his own hip, squeezing. He lets go when Chuck's grip is tight enough and then reaches up to hook his arm over his shoulder, yanking him down until they're pressed together tight. 

It's pretty hot, seeing him so frustrated, but it also makes Chuck realize how lame he's being, so he tells his dumb brain to stop being so awkward and just fuck Orange like a normal person. Luckily, Orange makes it easy, always perfectly relaxed and responsive, submitting to Chuck's movements but rolling his hips and moaning in a way that makes it obvious he's enjoying himself... plus the fact that he's so hot it's hard for Chuck to hold back anyway. 

It’s all fine, and almost like usual, except that Orange is on his back this time. So Chuck can watch his face the whole time. Which is nice — because he can make sure he’s okay, and not for any other, sappier reasons — but leads him to the discovery that Orange is actually very expressive when he's getting fucked. He bites his lips when Chuck first presses in, and then visibly pants through the strain until he finally relaxes with a groan and his mouth falls open. His eyes are hooded and the blue is barely visible, and Chuck really tries to be strong when he looks right up at him, but he lasts about half a second before he's darting his glance away. Which leaves his eyes trailing down Orange’s firm chest, stomach, cock resting against his tight abs... 

Chuck decides to just shut his eyes. It’s enough to feel Orange tight and hot around him, hearing his hitched little breaths as Chuck runs a hand over his thigh to get him to relax. He really doesn’t need to add that overwhelmed look on the blonde’s face to the mix.

That lasts for a solid minute, until Orange scrapes his nails down his back and Chuck really wants to see what he looks like. He opens his eyes and Orange is still staring at him and he can't help the way his hips reflexively shove in extra hard. 

Orange arches up real nice and Chuck takes the opportunity to rub a thumb over his nipple, and when he doesn’t object, ends up just circling around it over and over again. He’s got a nice tight chest and Chuck doesn’t usually get a chance to feel it up when he’s face down. And it doesn’t hurt that his skin turns insanely pink at the slightest pressure, and Chuck gets to watch the color spread while he palms at the muscle. Orange keeps arching up like he can’t lean into him enough, so Chuck get both his hands in on the action and just gropes at Orange’s pecs, digging his nails in a little and watching red imprints bloom immediately. Orange’s body is all hard and tight but his skin is so goddamn soft and Chuck kind of never wants to let go, which is a little terrifying and completely uncool.

Orange is moaning so desperately Chuck would make fun of him if it wasn’t so fucking hot. So he takes the encouragement for what it is and just pushes more and more of his weight onto Orange, pressing into his chest while his hips shove him up with every thrust. Orange _whines_ and Chuck swears he can actually feel his cock twitch where it’s pressed between their stomachs.

“Dude… this is _hot_ ,” Chuck tells him. Orange smiles lazily, his lips parted, like he wants to laugh but his breath is caught in his throat.

“Y-yeah,” he gets out. “Dumbass.”

“Bitch,” he replies. Maybe he is a dumbass, but Orange never exactly communicated that he wanted to get railed into the mattress like this. “I’m gonna fuck you so good you can’t call me a dumbass.”

“Nice,” Orange mutters under his breath before Chuck picks up his pace. 

Orange seems to like that, so he moves faster and rougher ‘til he’s shoving his whole body up with every push, and Orange has to slap a hand up against the headboard to stop his head from hitting it. It leaves his side open, and Chuck really has no choice but to drag his nails down the skin there. Red lines form so quickly it drives Chuck a little crazy. He doesn’t know why it thrills him so much to mark Orange up; he feels like a little kid drawing his name into wet cement.

And then he notices how pristine Orange’s neck is looking, and he can't let it stay like that. So he dips down to mouth along his throat, and waits until Orange lets out a little pleased moan to bite down and cut him off. He realizes too late that he’s digging his teeth in way harder than usual, but Orange seems cool with it, by the way he tilts his head away and exposes his neck more fully to him.

So he keeps fucking up his neck, and the thought of how it’s going to look later has him shoving harder and harder into Orange, his hand digging into his hip, undoubtedly leaving marks there too. He tilts his head up just to admire how wrecked the blonde looks, with his mouth all slack and his eyes shut tight.

And when he sees the wetness on Orange’s cheeks, he writes it off as sweat for a minute, but then he’s pretty sure sweat doesn’t come out of your eyes, or produce those hiccuping sounds Orange is squeaking out. Or... _ah, shit._

“Fuck, goddamn it,” he rushes out. He tries to pull back as fast as he can, but Orange clings so tight to his shoulder, he stops himself. “You’re fucking crying again, man.”

Orange’s lips move silently, like he’s trying to talk, but all that comes out is a strangled little noise. Chuck’s about ready to bolt again, but he’s trying to be a reasonable adult who can react calmly about these things, and, well. Maybe it’s his boner talking, but that noise didn’t exactly sound like pain. He looks down Orange’s body and the guy’s still hard as ever against his abs, so maybe the moment isn't completely killed.

“Are you… okay?” he tries.

“Mmhm,” Orange mumbles with his teeth digging into his lip.

“Seriously?”

“Mm, yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Orange says, and now he sounds borderline impatient. _Such a bitch._ So Chuck pushes through his reservations and starts rocking into him again, slow and easy, holding himself up with his arms so his body’s barely touching Orange anymore.

Orange moans again, and melts back into the bed, doing that pretty boneless thing that Chuck loves to see. His hands are still digging into his shoulders, though, and now they’re pressing insistently, pulling him back down. 

“Chuck. Go harder,” he breathes. “That was good, before.” He keeps trying to pull Chuck closer, which is kind of cute because he absolutely doesn’t have the size or strength to do it successfully. Chuck bites back the obnoxious little smile he really wants to give his small friend, and moves closer to him, still careful not to put too much weight on him.

“You were crying though, dude,” he murmurs. “I mean, no offense, but that’s fucked up.” Orange groans and slaps weakly at his shoulder.

“No, it was _good_. It was really good,” he insists. 

He could be speaking German for how much Chuck understands what he’s saying. He’s not really sure how the hell that works, crying over a good fuck. People cry when they’re happy sometimes, he guesses. He doesn’t fucking know, he doesn’t cry. 

But he’s gotta trust Orange here. And if he clears his head, he can see that they’re both still very much into this, so maybe he’s being dramatic. Maybe he just needs to chill out and do what Orange tells him and not worry so damn much. It’s just sex, he’s really not supposed to give that much of a shit anyway. If Orange wants to get pounded 'til he’s fucking sobbing, then it’s Chuck’s job to make that happen. Whatever he can do to get his bro off.

So he shakes off his nerves and gets back into it, slapping a hand back onto Orange’s chest while the other gets a tight grip on his thigh, and slams into him just how he really wants to. Orange moans so loud Chuck can feel a shiver slide down his own back and a groan rumble from deep in his chest.

His eyes start watering again, and Chuck forces himself not to freak. Because Orange is still holding him tight and making a whole variety of noises that all go straight to Chuck’s dick. He keeps going while the tears start spilling down Orange’s cheeks, and Chuck finds himself moving his hips mindlessly, fighting against his instinct to close his eyes at how charged up he feels, because Orange just looks… so good. Really good. Insanely fucking good, actually, and it has Chuck reeling a tiny bit.

So maybe he could get into this whole crying during sex thing. He feels like a huge fucking creep for even thinking it, but… It’s a nice look on Orange. His eyes are all shiny, tears sticking to his lashes, brows drawn up, keening at every thrust and clinging to Chuck like he’ll die if he lets go. He won’t stop staring straight up at him, his blue eyes blown black and dazed. And it’s way too much, but impossible to look away from. He looks so vulnerable it’s almost scary, but it’s making Chuck thrust harder, hold him tighter, grunt out little ‘yeah’s whenever Orange breathes his name out. 

And the idea that he’s so overwhelmed, feeling so good that it’s bringing him to goddamn tears? Chuck would be lying if he said the thought wasn’t doing great things for his ego. Part of him is just thrilled he can do this for Orange; he always feels like he’s getting the better end of their deal. Yeah, they both get off, but he’s the one who gets to push into Orange and watch him flush and writhe, and pry those incredible noises out of him. Orange just gets a dick in his ass. Which Chuck is starting to think might be better than it sounds, since it has the dude fucking crying.

Chuck reaches down to wrap a hand around his dick and stroke him, tighter and faster than usual because he really can’t help it. He feels as keyed up as Orange looks and wants more than anything to just make him blow his load, because he’s close as hell himself. Orange’s watery eyes finally slam shut, and his nails scrape down Chuck’s shoulders, his thighs tensing and shaking around his hips.

“C’mon, baby. I got you,” Chuck murmurs.

Orange whines his name one last time and comes, and it’s a fucking lot to take in, all his coiled intensity unwinding with his strangled whimpers dissolving into low, satisfied moans. His body arches and tenses and all it takes is another look at his blissed out, teary eyes, and Chuck is losing it immediately, latching his mouth onto Orange’s already-wrecked neck and coming his goddamn brains out.

He can’t remember the last time it felt so good, grunting into Orange’s neck, and if his mouth weren’t attached to Orange’s skin he’d probably be making some pretty embarrassing noises. His hands slide heavy and slow down Orange’s sides while he rides out the waves, going limp and panting like he’s just finished a brutal match.

He lies there for a minute, basking in the afterglow and the feeling of a pliant, sweaty Orange under him who’s been boned out to the point of speechlessness. And yeah, technically he’s speechless a lot, but this is different. This isn’t ‘I’m too lazy to talk,’ this is ‘Chuck’s amazing dick has rendered me incapable of forming words.’

Chuck eventually musters the energy to pull out and flop down next to Orange, looking over at him. There’s a lazy little smile on his face that puts some embarrassing feelings in Chuck’s chest. He seems to gain control of his limbs slowly, taking a while to catch his breath, and Chuck can relate. Orange finally manages to flip himself over, flopping an arm across Chuck to bury his face in his shoulder and hum, nuzzling into his side. It’s sort of sweet, really sweet actually, like way too sweet. He’s never seen Orange act so affectionate before, and Chuck’s so proud of himself he kinda wants to tell the whole world about it.

So he does the next best thing and grabs his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Orange mumbles into his shoulder.

“Texting Trent.”

“Texting him what.”

“‘I dicked… him down… so good… he fucking cried.’ Sunglasses emoji.” Orange just hums in response, already half asleep. His phone buzzes almost immediately. “He says ‘gross, don’t ever text me again.’ Man, what a jerk.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://jcryder.tumblr.com/)


End file.
